I don’t even know what to do anymore
I don’t know where to start
All that I’m doing is nothing
All that I want to do is art
But I’m like a tire
That is becoming flat
The farther I travel
The more air I lack
I’m in the final stretch
I can’t go on like this
Some days I say “what’s the point”
Other days, I hardly exist
A D.W. Original
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